by Matt Hlinak
“Thanks,” she said with an appealing upturn of her lip.
He swallowed hard and then shoved her aside. He rolled to his belly and started pushing himself to his feet.
“Here, let me help you,” she said, sliding her thin arms around his waist.
“No,” Culann snapped, and she pulled away. He grabbed the trunk of the tree with his good hand and pulled himself up.
“Whoa, what’s with all the dogs?”
The pack churned forward to greet the newcomer. The dogs sniffed and licked and nudged so persistently that the girl nearly toppled back into the sea.
“Stay back,” Culann ordered, and the dogs halted.
“How many do you have?”
“There are forty-eight, although they really aren’t mine.”
“Whose are they?”
“They don’t belong to anyone anymore.”
She gave him a puzzled look but didn’t say anything more. He snatched up his cane and led her through the woods back to the once-inhabited part of the island.
“Thanks again for saving me,” she said as they walked. “It was so weird. All the electronics went dead at the same time. Must’ve been a short circuit or something. Do you know anything about electronics?”
Culann shook his head. He didn’t want to talk to this girl, this girl who tempted him with her nearly-naked body, this girl who would not be alive in twenty-four hours.
“Are you some kind of hermit?”
Culann smiled despite himself. He realized how he must look to her eyes: six weeks’ growth of beard, shaggy hair that reached his collar, limping along with the help of a jury-rigged cane which he gripped in a gnarled hand, and a policeman’s utility belt wrapped around his waist. He was thankful that his injuries had healed sufficiently that he could resume wearing normal clothes instead of simply cloaking himself in a grass-stained bedsheet.
“I guess so,” he said.
“Is that why you won’t look at me?”
“Come on,” Culann said. “Let’s get you some clothes.”
2
Culann was still alive, and he was confident in way that he hadn’t been with Constance and Schuler that he would continue to be alive, at least until winter hit. He was some sort of chosen one, although he had little faith in this Dog-God who’d done the choosing. He decided that this status had to have been earned, that it couldn’t have been just dumb luck that allowed him to survive when so many people, stronger people, were dead. He just didn’t know how he had earned it. He concluded that there must be some sort of cosmic Calvinism going on here, that he’d been born one of the elect and was only now discovering it. If that was the case, he needed to live a life, however short, of irresistible grace.
The girl emerged from Alistair’s bedroom wearing Julia’s bathrobe, which was far too large for her. Culann looked away from the exposed tanned skin of her neck and collarbones, and the brown curls that cascaded down her shoulders. He took a drink of club soda, having foresworn alcohol until the girl was gone.
“My name is Nereida, by the way.”
He nodded.
“Do you have a name?” she asked with a smile as she slid onto the barstool next to him.
“Culann.”
“That’s an interesting name. Does it mean anything?”
“It’s from Celtic mythology.”
“That’s cool,” she said, “My name comes from mythology, too.”
“I know.”
“I get it. You don’t like to talk. That’s why you live all by yourself out here.”
Culann nodded. It was simpler to have her think that he was some antisocial recluse than a man whose craving for a drink was surmounted only by his craving for her flawless young body. The less they spoke, the easier it would be for him to pretend she wasn’t there. Unfortunately, Nereida didn’t seem to care much for silence.
“Where did you get this bathrobe? Did you have a wife who died, and that’s why you’re a hermit?”
Culann couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, that’s it.”
“That’s really sweet.”
“Is it?”
“Oh, yeah. To be such a romantic that you can’t live a normal life without her.
She must have been very beautiful.”
“How old are you?” Culann asked.
“Thirteen.”
“Jesus Christ,” he said with a cough. “What were you doing out there all by yourself?”
“I’m trying to set the record for the youngest girl to sail solo around the world.
I’m doing a practice run from California to Alaska and back, and then next year I’m going for the record.”
“Are you serious?” Culann turned to face her. “What do your parents have to say about this?”
Nereida rolled her eyes as if she’d been asked this question a thousand times.
“My parents think kids are too overprotected nowadays. Everybody’s so afraid of child molesters and stuff that they hide their kids away and never give them the chance to grow up. If I can do this, I will accomplish more at fourteen than most people do in their entire lives.”
Her acorn-brown eyes sparkled when she spoke. She oozed ambition. Culann could see she was the type of person who was destined for greatness, if only she had more than one day to live. He shook his head.
“If you were my daughter, I’d never let you do anything so crazy. Think how awful your parents would feel if something happened to you.”
Culann’s words surprised him. For the first time in a long time, he’d forced himself to imagine how another person felt, to see the world through strangers’ eyes.
He’d stopped thinking about himself. Nereida stopped being some sea nymph sent to tempt him. She was a child, and he was again a teacher, a man entrusted with children and who was committed to shepherding them safely into adulthood. He needed to figure out a way to send her home to her family. Alive.
3
Culann and Nereida stood on the dock near Culann’s floating keg. The brief night had ended, and the sun again shone down upon them. Culann had ordered the dogs to stay ashore, so they stared impatiently at their master from land. Culann eased himself to a sitting position and removed his shoes and socks. He still wasn’t quite sure he could trust himself around Nereida, so he left his jeans and t-shirt on.
“What are you doing?” she asked for the third time.
“Just taking care of something,” he again replied.
Culann slid into the water, feeling the sharp cold devour him. If he stood on his tiptoes, he could just barely keep his mouth above the waterline. The water was too dark and salty for him to open his eyes underwater. He had a general idea where he’d thrown it, but feeling around the silty bottom with his toes was a hard way to find it.
“Can I at least help you with whatever you’re doing?” Nereida called down. “Not to be conceited or anything, but I think I’m a lot better swimmer than you.”
“No, stay there. This might be dangerous.”
“Dangerous? What are you doing?”
“Please be quiet. I need to concentrate.”
Nereida sighed and folded her arms across her chest. Culann shut his eyes and focused on the sand sliding over his toes. He narrowed his focus and felt the individual grains as he pressed his feet into the bottom. Then he concentrated on just one grain of sand at the end of his big toe.
“Where is it?” he whispered.
The grain of sand told him.
Culann hopped forward until his left foot struck the unmistakable surface of the orb. He took a breath and pushed himself beneath the surface, using his damaged limbs to propel to the bottom. He slid his good left hand under the orb and clamped down on it from above with his right. He strained against the water pressure above to wrest it from the seabed.
When his head broke the surface, Nereida had cast off Julia’s bathrobe and was preparing to dive into the water.
“Stay there,” Culann said with a gasp of exertion.
She sco
wled at him, but complied. He hopped back to the pier, just barely keeping his mouth above the surface, while cradling the orb to his belly. The extra weight slowed him down, and his eyes focused on Nereida’s undisguised expression of impatience as he made his way to her.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Just something I dropped. Now please stay back.”
He reached the pier, which stood a good two feet above the waterline. With one great surge, Culann kicked his legs and hefted the orb up and onto the pier before sliding back into the water.
“What is that thing?” Nereida asked, inching closer.
“Don’t touch it. I’ll be right up.”
With another surge, Culann shot up, grabbed the edge of the pier with his left hand, and pulled himself up so that his elbows rested on the planks while the rest of him dangled over the edge. He caught his breath for a few moments and then kicked with his legs and straightened his arms, but his right hand couldn’t bear the weight. He dropped back to his elbows and resumed dangling off the side.
“You need some help?” Nereida asked with a smirk.
“Yes,” Culann replied. “But please don’t touch the orb. I am not joking — it’s very dangerous.”
She cast a wary glance at the orb before crouching down and grabbing Culann under the right arm. He pushed with his left arm and kicked his legs while she pulled.
After a brief struggle, the two knelt on the deck, panting side by side over the orb.
“Now what?” she asked.
“I don’t know, but stay back.”
Culann sat before the orb as it rested on the dock. The symbols had once again changed. They’d formed into six stick-figures of dogs, like those seen in cave paintings, with triangular features emphasizing the teeth. He held his hands on each side like a fortune-teller with a crystal ball, massaging the ethereal etchings on its surface. Thick, gray clouds blew in from the sea, enveloping the sun. Nereida knelt a few feet away, craning to see what he was doing. Thunder rumbled all around them, and rain poured down. Culann focused all of his attention on his fingertips as they worked their way across the strange symbols covering the orb. After a few moments, he felt ten tiny jolts of electricity, one in each finger. The orb was listening. Culann just needed to figure out what to say.
“Okay,” he started, “let’s just get something straight off the bat. I’m not like the Captain.”
“Who’s the Captain?” Nereida asked. “What are you talking about?”
Culann ignored her and continued, “I am not trying to dominate you or harness your power. I just have a simple request.”
“Who are you talking to? Are you talking to that thing?”
“Please, I am begging you, don’t hurt her. Let her live.”
“Are you talking about me?” Nereida rose to her feet. “Are you some kind of fucking psycho?”
“Please,” Culann continued. “You spared me, you spared the dogs. Please, spare her. She is just a child. She has done nothing wrong. She is innocent.”
The electricity returned, stronger this time. It coursed through Culann’s fingers, up his arms, and into his brain. Pain drilled into the base of his skull and radiated through his head. Black amoebae swam through his eyes as if he’d stared too long at the sun. He gritted his teeth so hard pieces of enamel broke off his molars and fell into his dry throat.
The dogs bayed wildly from shore while Nereida’s fearful cries filled his ears.
The pain relented, and Culann hunched over the orb on the brink of unconsciousness. Nereida spun around and ran back to shore. She passed Alphonse midway down the dock. The dog continued towards Culann despite having been previously admonished to remain ashore with the other dogs who dutifully sat at the water’s edge. The dog stared with such intensity that Culann wondered if he was about to be eaten. The rain came down hard, slapping the deck with each drop. Alphonse stopped just before Culann, his eyes glowing like blue lightning, and opened his jaws.
“You would bargain with a god?” Alphonse growled.
“Holy shit.”
Alphonse bared his fangs but said nothing.
“You are the Dog-God?” Culann said after regaining his composure.
“I have many names. To the Egyptians I was Anubis, the jackal-headed king of the underworld. To the Greeks I was Cerberus, the guardian of the dead. The Aztecs called me Xolotl, bringer of lightning and death.”
“I am Culann Riordan, teacher of English.”
“I know who you are,” Alphonse snapped. “You want this child’s life. What have you to offer me in return?”
“Uh, my soul?”
“You must offer me something I do not already possess.”
“What do you want?”
Alphonse drew back his lips into a ferocious smile.
“I will tell you a story.”
4
“One of your philosophers once said ‘If God did not exist, it would be necessary to invent Him.’”
“That was Voltaire,” Culann said.
Alphonse growled from deep in his belly. Lightning slashed across the sky behind him.
“Sorry, continue.”
“This Voltaire was right. The gods are a human invention, but that makes us no less real. My power is nevertheless nothing compared to the power of human imagination, which managed to turn matter into energy after all. Even I, whose faintest growl is thunder, whose panting creates hurricanes, whose bite rends the sky with lightning, can only marvel at the awesome displays of death your kind unleashed at Hiroshima, Nagasaki and Chernobyl. It is the power of human imagination that gave rise to me soon after your ancestors dropped from the trees and began stalking the savannah.
Even as they slew the beasts around them, these early hunters observed the remarkable physical abilities of the creatures around them. One day, an ancient hunter saw a pack of wolves in the distance. The pack chased an antelope into a copse of trees where another wolf lay in hiding. The hunter said in a long-forgotten tongue that he wished to be as cunning as that wolf. With this first prayer, I was born.
“With each prayer, I grew stronger. For millennia, I was worshipped by your kind. I birthed the storms, ruled the underworld, guarded the dead.
“And then came Moses and Jesus and Mohammed. The old gods began to fade.
We clung to the last vestiges of our power until Voltaire’s followers convinced the world that there were no gods at all. The flames of my fellows extinguished one by one. I endeavored to control my own destiny. I vested all of my power into an object and dropped it from the heavens. A man was to find it and wield its awesome power. The others would fear this man. They would pray—to me—for protection. My power would grow until I became again as I once was.
“But Fate toys with the destinies of gods as well as men. The orb landed in the middle of the jungle. An old monk found it and carried it back to his temple. The other monks succumbed to its power, but the finder is always spared. I offered him enough power to rule your world. He refused it. He lived alone in the jungle for nearly two centuries, surrounded by the bones of his brethren.
“And then your people brought your fantastic war machines to the wilderness. One came close enough that I was able to reach up and pluck from the sky a man who hungered for power. I drew him towards me. The young alpha overthrew the old. Finally the orb was in possession of one who would use it. He could have marched across the continents, sewing death and fulfilling my plan. But instead he took the orb into one of those machines. The orb contained my power as the Great Growler, Lord of Thunder, and the lightning caused the machine to fall. The orb sank into the sea.
“But this finder had caught the scent. He hunted and hunted until at last I was found by you. As before, the young alpha did battle with the old. Your victory was…surprising. I’d have preferred you to have been defeated.”
“But didn’t you allow me to win?” Culann asked. “You let me control the dogs.”
“You are both finders and you both possessed the power
to control my children.
The other held them back, but my children cannot change their very nature. A dog is, above all, loyal. My children could not ignore the command of you who care for them.”
“So you didn’t choose me, and I didn’t choose you either. We’re stuck with each other.”
“For now.”
“What if I decide to row you back out and drop you in the middle of the ocean?
How long will it be until someone finds you then?”
“You threaten a god?”
“I’m not making threats. I’m negotiating.”
“I do not fear you, finder. You must offer me more.”
“Well, you’ve figured out by now that I’m more like the monk than the Captain. I’m not going to walk the Earth allowing you to kill enough people that the survivors start to worship you.”
“You will not be the last finder. My time will come.”
“But what if you don’t have to wait? What if I can get people to worship you now — without having to kill anyone?”
“How would you do this?”
“The girl can do it. She is about to accomplish a great feat. She will become famous. In our world, fame is more important than faith. We can make her your prophet. But only if you let her live.”
Alphonse stared up at Culann for a moment, the dog’s eyes crackling with electricity.
“I accept your terms, finder, but you must understand what is at stake. My powers protect you here. You can use them to keep your people away. If this girl is to live, you will lose those powers. You must face the justice of your people.”
Culann paused to consider this. He’d sought out this Alaskan adventure as a means of avoiding the consequences of his actions. He’d viewed the challenges he’d faced as a sort of substitute punishment, but the law was unlikely to see it that way. He could escape into this life of adventure, but would have to sacrifice Nereida to do it. To save her, he would have to rejoin the world and be held to account for what he’d done.